


Stakeout

by one_windiga



Category: Castle
Genre: M/M, Tickling, enclosed space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-03
Updated: 2010-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_windiga/pseuds/one_windiga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd been given watch duty outside of old McLeod's house. Castle didn't even think McLeod was conscious during the victim's estimated TOD, but Beckett had to follow procedure. Lucky them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drunken_hedghog](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=drunken_hedghog).



They'd been given watch duty outside of old McLeod's house. Castle didn't even think McLeod was conscious during the victim's estimated TOD, but Beckett had to follow procedure. Lucky them. They got the red-eye shift of midnight to seven in the morning. They'd be relieved then, and if there was a God, their replacements would be armed with coffee. But until then, it was seven long hours of old streetlights flickering, stray teenagers wandering in grey hoodies, and endless radio talk shows that were run by announcers with less entertainment skills than sea cucumbers.

Around two thirty, Esposito finally flicked off the radio with a frustrated grunt.

"Fuck. That." He emphasized his point by adding verbal capitals and crossing his arms.

Ryan glanced over, eyebrows bunching over tired eyes. "You don't want to find out whether Francesca was actually imagining her hu-"

"Dude. Listen to yourself."

There was a long pause, then Ryan sighed out and turned back towards the windshield, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel pointlessly. "Okay, you have a point."

"I think this is an all time new low."

"No arguments from me." With that, Ryan leaned to the side and let his head fall with a 'thunk' against his window. There wasn't anything interesting outside of it. By this time on a weekday night, even the fall-over-drunk teens were off of the streets, to terrify their parents at home, and there hadn't been movement for over forty minutes. The universe hadn't even been kind enough to give them rain. It was just... quiet. Quiet, quiet, and more quiet.

He hadn't realized until now just how tired he was, but suddenly it was everywhere. His eyes were dry, his knees felt like they'd been filled with lead, and he wanted nothing more than a really soft pillow. The window was hard and cold against his forehead, but he was still drifting off, eyelids sliding shut.

Esposito watched warily as his partner slowly relaxed against the driver's side door. As much as he wished he could let him sleep, this just wasn't the time to do it. Not on the job, not in the squad car. If for no other reason than that his neck would never forgive him. He reached over and shook Ryan's shoulder, but Ryan only mumbled something unintelligible and turned closer into the window. Esposito sighed out in exasperation. Desperate times.

He let his hand drop from Ryan's shoulder down to his stomach, where he tickled him instead. Well. That seemed to do the trick. Ryan jolted upright, eyes suddenly wide, mouth caught halfway between a laugh and a scowl. " _Dude_! What the hell was that?!"

He looked so much like a flustered cat rubbed the wrong way that Esposito didn't bother defending himself, but just broke out into laughter. "Oh, man, your _face!_ I seriously hope that isn't your 'righteous anger' face, bro, because I don't think even my nieces would be afraid of you!"

"Shut up," Ryan mumbled, reddening. "Not cool, exploiting a guy's weaknesses like that. Seriously, tickling is _not_ a UN-approved method of warfare!"

"You're just saying that because you're Tickle-Me-Elmo."

"Wh- I am not!"

"Prove it." And with that gauntlet thrown, Esposito reached across the armrest again, this time with both hands, tickling with the mercilessness of growing up in a large family.

Ryan gave a strangled, involuntary laugh and tried to squirm away, but the car door behind him was jutting hard angles into his spine, and he couldn't move any further than that. Instead, he tried to smack Esposito's arms away, but Esposito always handed him his ass on a plate in sparring sessions, and this was no different. After a few minutes of fighting, he gave up the effort and resigned himself to wheezing, helpless laughter, leaning back against the door as Esposito completely wiped away the last of his self-control.

Esposito's fingers skittered up and down his stomach, fluttering across his chest and pausing to scrape at the too-ticklish spots at the sides of his ribcage. It was only then that he hesitated, allowing Ryan a brief reprieve, as he realized just how thin the fabric was underneath his fingers. He could feel the warmth of Ryan's skin through the cotton, shivering slightly still from the onslaught of tickling. Ryan's chest was heaving, and every breath he took made the hem of his shirt ride up a little higher. He splayed his fingers out slowly, hands rising and falling with Ryan's breath.

For a moment, he allowed his thumbs to rubs circles over Ryan's sternum while his fingers drank in the feel of his chest. When he finally looked up, he saw Ryan staring at him, mouth still parted and breathing hard, cheeks pink on pale from exertion. There was a minute of stillness and silence, nothing but Ryan watching Esposito watching him.

Esposito finally swallowed, only once, before bowing his head to press a kiss to the slice of stomach Ryan's shirt exposed. There was a swift intake of breath above him as Ryan's eyes widened, but when there was no argument or shove following the gasp, he slid his fingers under the edge of the shirt and pushed it up farther. He kissed one pale nipple, drawing his tongue around it with the faintest scrape of teeth that had it growing hard beneath his lips as Ryan gripped onto the seat. He ran his fingers, gentler now than only minutes past, across the other as he trailed kisses down Ryan's chest, back to his stomach.

He drew a hand down Ryan's ribcage, reveling in the feel of wiry muscle playing over every bone. It was strange, how fascinating the smooth expanse of white skin was. With no more warning than a kiss, he slid his tongue down into Ryan's bellybutton, alternately dipping down into it and running along the edge. The startled moan that earned ran down his spine, a trail of molten need. He breathed out, warm, onto the slick skin, and Ryan's hands slid across the window, feeling for some purchase to hold onto, before they finally found handfuls of Esposito's shirt and tangled into it.

Esposito glanced up to see Ryan's blue eyes eaten up by dark pupils. His lips were swollen where he'd been biting them while Esposito worked on his stomach. Unable to resist, Esposito shifted up to kiss him, and Ryan met him halfway, lips already drawing open to allow him in.

He found himself swallowing a groan as they explored each other's mouths, all heat and hurry where they pressed up. As they kissed, his hands blindly pulled open Ryan's belt buckle. When he finally got the catch undone, he pulled back.

Ryan's response was a second slow in coming, delayed by the onslaught of overwhelming sensations. "Wha-" he protested eloquently, already upset at the loss of Esposito's kiss.

"Relax, dude," Esposito rumbled, voice gravely with warmth, " 's better, anyway." He kissed Ryan once more on the corner of the mouth, then lowered his head back down to Ryan's lap.

The way the windows quickly steamed opaque, it was a minor blessing that McLeod was later proven innocent.


End file.
